(I’m a customer waiting in line at a local convenience store. A man and a woman walk in, grab drinks out of the cooler and head for the register to pay. Suddenly, the woman throws the drink on the ground.)

(I’m working third-shift in a quiet part of town, when a car pulls up, a man steps out, walks in, and comes up to the counter.)

Customer: “Pack of Marlboro Reds.”

Me: “Sure thing. May I see your ID?”

Customer: “What?”

Me: “Your ID. I need to see it before I can sell you cigarettes.”

Customer: “Are you f****** kidding me?”

Me: “…no, sir. I need to see ID before I can sell you cigarettes.”

Customer: “Look, I know this is a s***ty little town, but in a real city like Cleveland, they don’t ask people older than 18 for ID for just cigarettes.”

Me: “Sir, I doubt that. I’m abiding by state law, and that applies in Cleveland, too.”

Customer: “Just give me the smokes!”

Me: “Sir, I can’t do that without ID.”

Customer: “You know what? You’re just some dumba** kid who works a s***ty job, and you’ll never amount to anything because you live in this piece of s*** town. If you had a real job or weren’t a total loser, you wouldn’t be such a piece of s*** about this. You won’t ever be anything in life, you f***.”

Me: “That might be true, but, you know what I can do that you can’t?”

Customer: “WHAT?”

(I turn, grab a pack of my brand of cigarettes off the shelf, scan them, pull out my wallet, swipe my card, grab my receipt, open the pack, and slide a cigarette behind my ear, before pocketing the smokes and receipt.)

(Obviously at a gas station, most people know that gas is flammable and it’s dangerous to leave your car running while pumping gas. When we see a car running we are supposed to shut off the pump and tell them to turn off their vehicles so they can resume fueling the vehicle. Most do it; some fought about it.)

Me:*shut off a pump and talk over the intercom* “Ma’am, on pump nine, in the black car, can you please turn off your vehicle so I can restart the pump?”

(I watch the customer continue to try and pump gas, ignoring me. I tell her two more times to turn off the car before she finally hangs up the pump and comes in.)

Customer: “I have pump nine. $2.83. And I couldn’t turn off my car because I had my kid in there.”

Me: “It’s the law, ma’am. Your kid won’t freeze in the few minutes the car is turned off. If I had let you continue you could have possibly blown up the place and it wouldn’t have mattered if your kid was in the car.”

Customer: “I’ve never heard of such a thing in my life.”

Me: “It happened not too long ago at [Nearby City].”

Customer: “That’s bulls***. I’m never going to stop here again.”

Me: “That’s fine with me, ma’am. I’d like to keeping living and not get blown up by ignorant people such as yourself. Have a nice day.”

(During a change of shifts we are required to count the till. Unfortunately, there is a major technical problem with it at the end of my shift. As my coworker and I try to resolve the issue, a customer walks in. In front of us is a huge mess of receipts and an empty register drawer, while we ruffle our hair and write calculations down on pieces of paper. I’d consider it obvious that something is wrong.)

Me: “Hi, there. I’m terribly sorry, but the till is broken at the moment. Is there anything I can do for you that doesn’t require a transaction?”

Customer:*smiling understandingly* “Oh, I just need to pay for gas.”

(I look at the pump’s registry. The customer owes us €20 flat.)

Me: “Oh, now that’s convenient. That’s 20 exactly, so tell you what: If you have the proper amount on you and don’t need a receipt, you can just pay and be on your merry way while we try to sort this out. How does that sound?”

Customer:*still friendly* “Hmm, that’s a pity. I need a receipt.”

Me: “Well, I wouldn’t want you to wait longer than you really need to, so how about I write one by hand?”

Customer: “No, that won’t do. I don’t like those. I’d prefer one printed by a machine.”

Me: “All right… I’m very sorry, but in that case I will have to ask you to wait. If you change your mind, please don’t hesitate to tell us.”

(She nods and strolls around the store for a bit as my coworker and I finally try one last thing – successfully. At least I can log on again. At this point, the customer has been waiting for about 2-3 minutes, tops. I put in the empty drawer and flash the biggest smile I can muster.)

Me: “Again, I apologize for the delay, but at least we can take care of you now. Okay, that’ll be €20 exactly, please.”

(As I say this, the customer slams the money down on the counter and gives me a death glare.)

Customer: “Ridiculous! You should be ashamed, keeping me waiting like this! This was the worst service I have ever gotten!”

(It’s just about closing time. I am preparing the paperwork and getting the tills counted. A customer walks in and heads back to look at the drinks. He’s still shopping when closing time hits, and we turn out the lights. I’m going to lock the doors, when a new customer starts walking up to the door I’m about to lock.)

Customer: “Oh! You’re closing. I’ll go elsewhere.” *turns to leave*

Me: “No, it’s fine. Come on in.”

Customer: “Nah, it’s all right. I’ve worked retail; I know how much it sucks to get kept after close.”

Me: “No, really. There’s already a guy in here. You won’t be slowing us down.”

Customer: “Ah, okay, thanks.”

(He comes in, heads straight to what he wants, and brings it to the counter. Elapsed time, 20 seconds. He sees I have the drawer open and am counting cash when he walks up.)

Customer: “Are you counting out the drawer?”

Me: “Yeah, just hoping to get a head start on getting out of here.”

Customer: “Okay, I’ll use credit then. Thanks for staying open for me.”

Me: “It’s no problem. Thank you for doing that!”

(He swipes his card and heads out. After he leaves, the original customer comes up to the counter. He throws down a hundred dollar bill for his under-$10 purchase, then looks around at the darkened store.)